


The Rook

by vintage1983



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Dark Vicbourne Fest - Freeform, F/M, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Haunting, Love Confessions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintage1983/pseuds/vintage1983
Summary: Now a widow, Victoria receives an unexpected visitor in the dead of night. Is he who he claims to be? Will she trust him and will love finally triumph over adversity?A short ghost story written for the Dark!Vicbourne Fest on Facebook.





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> As part of the Dark!Vicbourne fest have some ghostly goings on.  
This is my first attempt at writing for this fandom, so please be kind. I would love some of the more knowledgeable and dedicated among you to leave me some thoughts on it.  
It's in three parts and I was going to post the first chapter at the weekend, but I'm out and about, so it's a little early. 
> 
> A huge thank you to Abigail Harding and her stunning and inspirational artwork and to Laurielove for dragging me along for the ride!
> 
> Every reader is appreciated and if you have a second to leave me a few words, I will adore you even more!  
Vin x

Victoria had lost three significant men in her life. She had known complete and utter heartbreak on two occasions. Only a baby when her father had died, she had no recollection of him. Without doubt she felt the loss of him throughout her life. Sometimes more than anything, a child, a girl, a young woman needs the guidance, love and firm hand of a father. She had never known that, but he was only a story, an imagined construct of what might have been. His absence brought John Conroy into her life, a man who tried to mould her not into a strong, determined and confident young queen, but into a weak-willed and easily manipulated puppet. He failed. Though it had marred and shaped her childhood, it did not break her heart. It was hard to truly grieve for something she had never really known. Still, she imagined him to be kind and loving.

At 42 she had lost Albert, snatched away from her long before his time had come, her love, her life, her everything and she had sworn to mourn him for the rest of her days. She would wear black and not a stitch in another shade or hue, for the colour was gone from her world. It had not broken her; it had shattered her into tiny pieces that she understood would never fully fit together again. She was a jigsaw with a missing piece and could never feel complete again. Sorrow consumed her and she wept oceans for her Albert, yet there was another.

Full of youthful exuberance at the very beginnings of her reign she had felt the first stirrings of lust coiling and knotting within her, a girl transforming into a woman, emerging as a queen. She had looked upon a man with wide and glossy eyes and felt admiration that sparked infatuation. In turn, it built to adoration, and without doubt or hesitation it bloomed and grew into love; a forbidden, unspoken and unconsummated love that was never fully given life but never truly died. Instead, it lay dormant and from time to time it would flicker and crackle as the kindling of a distant memory threatened to ignite it again. Unlike Conroy, he had shown her that her strength and dignity were unassailable. She could not have her Lord M, not as she might have wished or wanted, but still, he was taken from her just as cruelly and far too soon.

Victoria had retired early that night. Conversation was tiresome, she had neither the will nor the inclination to play the piano and sing, and she had lost patience with games a long time ago. The embers in the fire were dying and the bedroom was exceptionally cold. She had buried herself under the covers seeking warmth and comfort. Sleep was regularly disturbed and often elusive. Victoria slept alone and was resigned and resolute that she would now always do so. She sought no-one, but on a night such as this she longed for the warmth and comfort of the proximity of another human being. It had been almost three years since she had last felt the tenderness of an embrace. With a shiver, she curled up and pursued the renewal and rejuvenation a restful night’s sleep might bring. It did not come.

Instead, she drifted in and out of wake and slumber, uneasy, tossing and turning, occupying the space between the conscious and unconscious, hovering in the uncertain space between the snuffing out of the candle and the beginnings of a dream. Her mind wandered aimlessly, until it stumbled on a memory and refuse to let it lie. Victoria dreamt she was a young woman again. From the deepest recesses of thought, she conjured an image of _him_. As if it were yesterday, she saw his face, his smile, him stood in Windsor uniform, her mentor, her advisor, her Lord M, her first love. They were riding out, laughing, smiling, but he was slipping away, fading into the dark. She reached out, grasping for his hand to pull him back, crying out aloud. The sound shattered the image and dragged her back into the cold and empty room, forcing her to sit bolt upright in her bed.

Victoria was alone.

Huffing and sighing, she batted at the pillow and settled down again. Each time she closed her eyes and began to fall asleep, Lord M returned, along with the gnawing sense of guilt that the man who filled her dreams was not Albert, but William. It wasn’t that she never dreamt of Albert, or that she had ceased to miss him. That hollow would never be filled, she would never finish mourning his loss, but tonight, as he sometimes did, it was the face of another man she had loved truly and deeply that invaded her thoughts. Hours had passed. Eventually she found some peace, if not the deep slumber she craved and needed.

Tap, tap, tap.

The noise roused her from her half-sleep.

It came again.

Tap, tap, tap against the windowpane.

“Who’s there?” she whispered, not afraid, but uncertain, still questioning if she was awake or drifting in and out of a dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The sound grew insistent, impatient even at her inaction. She reached to her bedside and lit the lamp. Its soft glow illuminated the space around it but cast long eerie shadows across the rest of her bed chamber.

Tap.

This time it seemed more satisfied. She looked around, now convinced the sound definitely emanated from the window and not the door. Certain she was fully conscious, she pushed back the covers and rose slowly to her feet, grasping the light and clutching her nightgown at her neck as she abandoned the warmth of her bed clothes and an icy chill stabbed at every bit of bare flesh. Cold air circled at her ankles drifting upwards and brushed over the nape of her neck like frozen fingers creepily stroking at her skin. She shuddered and the fine hairs on the arms prickled and stood on end.

Tap.

The sound urged her on. Wary, but almost in a trance-like state, hypnotised by its even meter and rhythm, each subsequent tap corresponded to a tentative footstep forward, drawing her closer and closer to the window.

Tap.

A step forward.

Tap.

Another.

Tap, tap.

She was inches away from the window. Breathing in deeply, she tore back the heavy curtain in a single swipe and looked out into the night.

Nothing.

There was no-one there, of course there wasn’t. She was neither easily worried, nor prone to superstitious nonsense. Any intruder would have required a substantial ladder and the ability to pass the palace guard undetected. No night was black enough to conceal such an endeavour and tonight the moon shone brightly, obscured temporarily by the dark blue plumes of passing clouds that were drawn quickly across the sky by a strong wind, once again revealing its silvery glow. As for anything else _unearthly_, she was a rational, Christian woman. There was only darkness and rain, both natural and real, the night was silent, save the squalling of the wind and the raindrops splashing against the window.

“Nonsense. Nothing but silly nonsense. Too much Dickens and a sip of wine too many at dinner.”

Still, she let out a sigh of relief and reached for the thick velvet to draw the curtain and close off her chamber from the world outside.

Tap.

The sudden sound startled Victoria, sending the lamp crashing to the ground with a clatter. It was closer and louder than before. Now her heart pounded, and adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Victoria gasped.

Nervously, she stooped and cautiously reached to pick up the lamp, her head up, her whole body on high alert. Her hand patted along the ground until she felt the handle and she slowly returned to her feet. The small flame clung on to life. It flickered and swayed, drawing new, dark shapes on the walls.

Tap.

She gasped again, gripped with fear but compelled to look. Already diminutive in stature, she hunched inwards, making herself as compact as she possibly could. Her face scrunched as she braced herself for a confrontation with something terrible. Victoria held the lamp up to the window.

Tap.

Her gaze trailed down the rain streaked glass and darted to a flicker of movement on the windowsill. There he was. His sharp beak knocked again; his feathers were slick with rainwater. The light caught a beady eye that looked up at her, searching and pleading. Victoria audibly exhaled. It was just a rook.

There was a knock, louder and more frantic and urgent than the rook’s tapping at the door. A fist beat heavily at the thick oak.

“Ma’am, Ma’am are you quite well,” a disembodied voice called from the other side.

“Yes, very well, thank you. Why such a fuss? It is wholly unnecessary.”

She tried to disguise the quiver in her voice. There was no need to cause alarm and it would not do to have anyone believe the queen was so easily shaken by a bird at the window of all things.

“There was a noise, a crash coming from your bed chamber. Shall we come in and investigate?”

“Certainly not! It was nothing. I am quite alright.”

“If you are certain Your Majesty?”

“Quite. Leave me in peace. It is late. I must sleep.”

“As you wish.”

Heavy footsteps padded down the corridor. The bird rapped again.

“You too, bird. It is the middle of the night. Disturb someone else, or better yet find shelter and rest.”

He studied her, tilting his head curiously.

“Go on, away with you.”

She shooed at him. The bird stood fast. Irritated, she banged her palm against the glass with the intention of startling him and sending its drenched wings flapping away into the night. The bird was unmoved. It found its voice and cawed at her defiantly.

“You’re a plucky and determined thing, but it is bedtime.”

Victoria reached for the curtain, this time adamant that she would shut out the awful weather and ignore his protestations. Something stopped her. Her arm was frozen, as if an invisible force held it, the thick, plush velvet was bunched in her fist, but she could not draw it closed.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The rook pecked incessantly, seemingly trying to drill his way inside.

“What do you want?” she hissed in a riled whisper.

The rook’s head tipped and bobbed. Their eyes met through the barrier. He was both strange and familiar. His steely glare burrowed into her soul. Victoria released a deep, mournful sigh. A wave of unidentified sadness washed over her. Still their eyes were locked on each other, fixed as they weighed one another up. Huffing, and doubtful that she had not been consumed by madness or hysteria, Victoria relented.

“Very well, if you will not leave me in peace, you must come in.”

Fear fought fascination as her subtly shaking fingers undid the latch with a soft click and she slid up the sash just enough for the bird to bow his head and hop inside. A gust of howling wind and cold splashes of rain followed it through the window. The curtain, in spite of its weight, billowed and waved like the Blue Ensign at sea. The rook outstretched his wings, showering tiny droplets onto the rug as he shook himself dry and then glided down to the floor. There was a heavy silence, something intangible passed through the air between them. Her heart thudded and thumped. Tears formed without a cause she could identify and clouded her vision. Another strong gust swept in, powerful enough to snuff out the light and plunge the room into darkness. The window slammed closed with a loud bang. 

Already on her mettle and unnerved, the harsh sound startled her. Moonlight flooded in through the glass, forming a spotlight on her feathered visitor.

“What do you want of me? I mean you know harm. What are you?”

The bird cawed again, displeased by her questioning. His eyes bored into hers. Strange, yet still so very familiar. She teetered between terror and comfort.

“_Who _are you?”

This time the bird called softly and nodded his head in approval. It turned to the right, drawing her to follow. An hourglass sat on the nightstand, filled with twinkling purple sand. Her eyes narrowed, studying the object that had not been there before. She did not recognise it as something that belonged in her household.

The bird cawed again, opening his wings and lifting off, circling the hourglass, urging her to turn it over. Victoria understood the demand. Tentatively, she extended her hand, almost surprised to find the mysterious timer to be solid and real to the touch. The rook returned to the same spot on the ground and looked up expectantly.

“You need me to tip this over, to make the sand run? What are we measuring? Is time short and precious?”

The bird cried, signalling the affirmative.

She considered it, her fingers running over the brass, ornate casing and over the smooth, thick, bulbous glass.

“And no harm will come to me, if I do so? If I assist you, I will be safe.”

The bird replied, emphatically bobbling, its dark eyes pleading.

“Very well.”

She gritted her teeth and lifted the hourglass. Heavier than it appeared, it took both hands to turn it and set it back down. A grey, glowing mist rose up, swirling and expanding from the ground. Its dim but luminous glow was other worldly. Victoria knew she should be afraid, that such a sight would plunge terror into the heart of the bravest soldier who would remind her to fight until her final breath, and that the most devout priest would deem it the work of the devil and caution her to run from its grasp or pray for her mortal soul. She was not afraid. She was not inclined to fight it and felt no urgency to run or implore God to save her. The smoke rose further until it formed a column six feet high. It’s hazy and shapeless form contracted, and it began to solidify, a dark figure slowly becoming visible amongst the vapour.

Victoria inhaled sharply through her nose. Unmistakable now, the outline of a man emerged from the mist. The blurred detail of a face slowly came into focus. She took a step back, then another. Her mouth opened to scream. No sound came out. There were eyes: sparkling; twinkling; soft and familiar eyes. Their colour and shape were now recognisable, the creases beneath them as well known to her as a path she had trodden a thousand times before. She knew. Then, at that very moment as she narrowed her eyes and looked right at the ghostly intruder, she knew it was unmistakably _him_. It could be no-one else. Those kind, loving, mischievous eyes had look upon her before, so many times. They had questioned and counselled her. They had wordlessly chastised her foolishness and impulsivity. They had implored and beseeched her. Those eyes were William’s. Her William’s. Her precious and cherished Lord M. They could not be. Those eyes had not looked upon her for fifteen years or more. Yet there they were.


	2. An Unexpected Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your lovely reviews, I am glad you are enjoying it so far and do love hearing your thoughts.  
Much angsty chat now Lord M has taken on human form.  
Enjoy!

The apparition grew clearer and clearer. Now she could see his coat and cravat, make out the curl in his hair. It was him, or at least whatever stood before her had taken on his corporeal form.

“What are you, spook, spectre, ghoul? What are you and why are you here? What do you want of me?”

“Do you not recognise me Ma’am?”

It was his voice, unmistakable and clear.

“I know your appearance. What are you?”

“I am William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne, your former Prime Minister and humble and faithful servant.”

“I am Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Parlour tricks and wicked deceit will neither fool nor frighten me. I will ask you again, what are you?”

“Forgive me, Ma’am.” The figure got down on bended knee before her. “I have told you truthfully. You must believe me.”

“I do not. You cannot be who you claim to be. It is impossible. It defies the very laws of nature.”

“I understand your reservations, know that I do, but…”

“Reservations! You are _not_ my Lord M.”

“Yet I have his likeness and his voice. I am who I claim to be. I can offer you nothing else but my word.”

“You are not my Lord M,” her voice wavered, and her words rasped and caught in her throat. “My Lord M is dead.” Tears flowed, thick and streaming freely down her cheeks.

“And I have come back to you now. How I have fought, and waited, and struggled to return to you.”

“I won’t hear it. Lies.”

“No, Ma’am. Who would deceive you in such a cruel and malicious way? What possible motivation could there be? I have nothing to gain from such a deception.”

“Are you the devil, sent to test me? Is that it?”

“I promise you I am not.”

He was so real, such an exact and perfect likeness, his voice, his mannerisms, everything about him was so utterly convincing. Even more so, Victoria wanted it to be him. An eagerness to be convinced lingered and was so tempting. Her fear began to subside, there was a comfort and a security that he gave her and always had. There was nothing but kindness and affection in his eyes.

“Prove it. Prove to me you are what you say you are.”

“Anything. Name it.”

“Tell me something only Lord M would know. That not another breathing soul could have told you or witnessed. Make me believe.”

He considered it for a moment.

“Ma’am, if it does not pain you for me to raise it…”

“Speak. Hold nothing back if it must be said.”

“I believe that only you and I have ever known that you came to me, at Brocket Hall and offered me your hand in marriage.”

Her jaw tightened. It was true. She had never divulged that to anyone, she had the utmost faith that he had not done so either. Victoria swallowed.

“Is that your proof?”

“It is.”

She could not respond; she did not know how.

“Ma’am? Victoria?”

Still no words came.

“I must tell you, that not a day passed in one life, or the next that I did not regret that decision with every fibre of my being.”

She sobbed now, openly and without shame. The belief that he was who he claimed to be was absolutely certain. Suspicion faded into overwhelming joy.

“How can this be? This is not possible, but you are here, as real as anyone else.”

Any remaining fear dissipated. It was him, her Lord M, her William, and no harm could come to her.

“I never left your side, I was always there, watching over you from afar in wonder and awe.”

Struck by the realisation, her mouth fell open. There was always a bird, a rook, she observed them, but did not _see _them. At the window, looking in after the birth of her children, at Albert’s funeral, at every significant turn in her life, a rook was there watching and waiting.

“As you did in life.”

“Always.”

“Why a rook? Of all birds, of all creatures you may have walked amongst us as. Is this your choice?”

“A bird is free, to go where it likes and to watch over things as I needed to watch over you. Besides, rooks are birds that form their own parliament. Where else more fitting could I possibly be?”

“Of course, it is where you belong, always, my Prime Minister. Say nothing to the others who have come since, but my favourite by a country mile.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Victoria became pensive and examined his features carefully, seeking truth in his eyes.

“You never came to me before or made yourself known. Why did you not come to me? Did you think I would not be glad to see you?”

“It is not an easy thing to accomplish and it was not the proper time.”

“And it is now?”

“You are alone, my queen. Without comfort or guidance. I fear for you.”

“I am… alone.” She swallowed and dabbed at her tears, wounded by the stark reminder of her situation. Albert drifted into her thoughts. “You are gone, and my Albert, well…” the pitch of her voice spiked.

“I know, I know. “

He comforted her. William had always comforted her, even with an economy of words, the gentle tone told her all she needed to know. Calmer and accepting of who stood before her, she looked at him properly. The memory often played tricks, but he was exactly as she recalled. Victoria had stored every detail of his face, the soft green of his eyes, the lines of his cheekbones, the curl of his lips as he smiled. She had stored them, buried and hidden, but still there, to be summoned when she needed to remember.

“I loved him. Truly, dearly, with everything I had to give.”

“That is good and right.”

“But…I…I loved you. Can that be so? Is that wrong or improper? Is it possible to feel that? As you confess regret in your rejection of me, does it wound you that I say that.”

“No, Ma’am,” he smiled softly. “I watched from afar, my heart broke for you. I am so sorry, Ma’am. Despite my own feelings, I wanted nothing more than for you to experience happiness and have the long and fulfilling marriage I could never have given to you.”

The sincerity in his voice moved her deeply.

“Can I…can I touch you? Is that possible?”

“I believe it might be.”

Tentatively she outstretched her hand. William still knelt before her. Anticipation, both of success and disappointment churned inside. Yet, his fingers found hers. She inhaled deeply at his touch, finding him surprisingly warm. He drew her hand to his lips and softly kissed her knuckles as he had done so many times, still with reverence and respect.

“Oh,” she sighed deeply and whispered softly, “come, come to me.”

Melbourne drew himself to his feet and stood upright. Even in the dark she recognised every line and feature. He looked exactly as he had then, all those years ago, just as handsome and dignified.

“Ma’am. I have missed you. If I may say that.”

“You may. I am content that I only reign over the living. You have earned the right to speak as you wish. You must address me as Victoria. I am no longer your queen.”

“You will always be my queen.”

“Hold me.” Her voice was weak and pleading, confused but in need of consolation, she melted into his arms, pressing her head against his chest, she found it still and silent. “No heart?”

“My heart ceased to be in my possession a long time before it stopped beating.”

He embraced her tightly. Venturing to smooth and stroke at her hair that hung loosely around her shoulders. They remained there and time distorted around them. When he finally tore himself away, she had no comprehension of how long it had lasted, it could have as easily been a few seconds as an hour. Still clutching the extinguished lamp, she made her way to the bed and perched on it.

“I want the light; I want to see you clearly. Can you stand it? It will not cause you any harm?”

“None,” he nodded.

The flame reignited and illuminated the space around her.

“Come closer, sit with me,” she beckoned him nearer and he stepped into the glow of the flame. William glanced down at the bed and she patted it. He hovered, still reluctant to cross the invisible boundaries that existed between monarch and subject.

“Sit. What scandal can there possibly be? The whole of London could come in and see us here and not a soul would speak a word of it again in fear of being admitted to an asylum. Perhaps, I should be, and you are not here at all. Have I gone quite mad, Lord M?”

“You are not mad, but I am very aware I am in your bedchamber at this late hour.”

“As am I. I dreamt of it. Sometimes. Often. I dreamt of you tonight. Perhaps that is why you have come to me now.”

He sat awkwardly at the end of the bed, leaving an empty space between them. Victoria huffed and patted again, demanding he move closer.

“Ma’am, Victoria I…”

“Sit. If I am still your queen, then I command it. If I am not, then I am a widow and you are an apparition and it is nobody’s concern but our own. It might be splashed across the front page of The Times tomorrow and the whole country would believe the Editor had lost his senses.”

He complied and the light fell upon his face.

“You have not aged, nor changed a bit.” Her hand shot to her own face, conscious that time had not stood still for her. “You must think me old and haggard, compared to the girl you once knew.”

“I see no difference. You look as you did then, to me.”

“Spare me the flattery. I have aged and you have not.”

“Then you have grown into your features, and dare I say it, you are more beautiful than ever for it.”

She glanced downward, her cheeks flushing. Victoria pursed her lips. Emboldened she reached out and took his hand, winding her still small and delicate fingers into his.

“Then perhaps it is a good thing, for now we seem so much closer in years.”

William swallowed hard and turned his head away.

“I have missed you. I have missed you so. I wonder, if you regretted your decision so very much, what might have been,” she said.

He sighed deeply and paused for a moment before he replied. “You would still be here, alone. I still would have left you a widow, and so much sooner. It is right as it is. The proper order of things. You have had happiness and I could not and should not have robbed you of that. Do not regret. Not for me. It was selfish of me to say it.”

“What is it like?” she asked suddenly.

“Victoria?”

“Beyond this life. Is it frightening? Were you afraid? You are still here, you walk amongst us, is that what will become of us all?”

“I can tell you so little. I understand so little, but I know have chosen this.”

“You do not seek rest and peace, if such a thing exists?”

“I believe it does indeed exist. I remain, until my duty to you is fulfilled.”

He could not stand to look at her or show her his weakness. She would not allow him to hide it, her hand finding his cheek and turning him to look her in the eye. Wide-eyed she tried to search into his very soul, but he pressed his eyes shut.

“Do not conceal your feelings from me, William. Not now, after all this time. Why come to me now if we can’t be free and open with one another. Look at me, please.”

Slowly, his eyes flickered opened and met hers.

“Your duty has been more than fulfilled. Why do you stay?”

“I stay,” he paused, struggling to find, or speak the words. “I stay for you.”

“You owe me no such debt. I won’t have it. I will not be responsible for this torment you endure.”

“I do not believe that I owe it to you.”

“Then what? You must explain it to me. I cannot tolerate the guilt of you resigning yourself to watch over me like this. You served me, and the nation so faithfully in life, I could not have asked any more of you, no-one could. There could not have been another Prime Minister so ideally suited to guiding me in those early days when I was nothing more than a foolish girl.”

“You were never foolish.”

“And this existence you endure?”

“I choose it. I choose it, willingly and without hesitation.”

“But, why? William you must make me understand why. You do not deserve this.”

“I choose it because I could not stand to not to see you, or to not know you are well and safe. I could not imagine never seeing your face or only being able to wonder if you are happy and content. I choose this path because above all others, I…” He stopped awkwardly and sharply, as if he had said too much already and would burden her with no further confession.

“Say it.”

“My admiration and affection for you is…”

“Say it,” she demanded.

“I love you.”

“Oh, my William, how I loved you. I did. I loved you so. I still love you now.”

Victoria wept. Her fingers gripped and tightened around his. They remained there wordlessly and once more time lost its meaning or sense. She opened her mouth to speak; nothing came. Still she sobbed.

“Please do not cry for me,” he whispered softly, brushing her hair away from her face. “Not for me. This was never my intention.” He softly kissed her forehead. “I should not have come here. Look at you, you are shivering with the cold. I should leave you in peace. It was wrong of me to disturb you.”

Already rising to his feet, she snatched at his hand and clung on tightly. Mirroring her dream, his fingers were slipping away. This time she held on firmly, refusing to give up.

“Stay,” she pleaded. “Can you do that? Can you stay here with me?”

“Victoria, I should leave you. I should not be here.”

“Should not, is not the same as cannot. Can you stay with me? How long can you remain as you, in your own form?”

“I have until the sand runs out.”

Her head snapped to the nightstand. The contents poured through the narrow neck between the glass bulbs. It was too rapid. She wanted to command it to slow down or cease completely. Powerless to prevent its passage, she tried to estimate how long it might be before the last grains had slipped through and their time was over. Dejected, she sighed. “I imagined that to be the case.”

“I believe I can maintain this for a night, no longer.”

“Then will you?”

He tipped his head and looked down at her, knowing what she was asking of him and uncertain if he should acknowledge it. She saw the same movements and actions as the rook and silently admonished herself for not recognising it immediately.

“Will you stay the night with me?”

Victoria had pushed the bedsheets back and was shuffling beneath the edge of the covers.

“Please, I…”

“Is it wrong of me, ungodly even, of me to ask it of you? You are warm and as real as you ever were. Stay with me William. For one night, let us just be. Let us know what we might have been and content ourselves with something brief, but treasured. I understand you cannot stay beyond this night.”

He looked down at her, stepping back, her fingers slipping away from his. Her eyes pleaded. Turning his back to her, he could not stand to look into those glossy blue orbs and deny her.

“Please, do not leave me. Do not leave me again.”

“I must leave you. I cannot stay forever; you know that I am unable to remain here with you.”

“Then just let us have tonight.”

“Will it not only make it more painful for you?”

“Once it would have. Not now. I have waited so long; I have been alone. I have learned to be a queen, you taught me how to be, I have been a wife and I have learned to be a widow. I am still a mother. I am all of these things. Allow me to just be the one thing I am never allowed to be.”

“I find it hard to believe you are not allowed to be anything you wish to be. What is it? That you want to be.”

“Just a woman.”

William nodded. The headstrong and idealistic girl he had steered and directed was gone. Victoria was every bit a woman now.

“My love, oh my love, when did you become so strong?”

“I always was. I just needed to see it.”


	3. An Unexpected Lover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words and support.  
Please let me know what you thought, it does mean a lot to me.  
I hope you enjoy the final chapter. 
> 
> I have another offering for the Dark Vicbourne Fest, though it is very different in tone and content. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He rushed to her, scooping her into his arms, his lips finding hers. Hunger and need poured into their kiss, her lips parting, beckoning his tongue into the warmth of her mouth. They did not stop to wonder or question what was right or possible. In that moment they only knew what they needed: each other. His fingers raked into her hair and he kissed her ferociously. Decades of want and waiting seeped into a single exchange. An ache spiked and soared within her.

Victoria understood men and their desires now. She pressed against him, her own need finding his. Panting a little as his mouth left hers, he tipped her head back finding the pale, sensitive flesh of her neck. The gentle nip of his teeth made her whimper and arch her back for more. The tightening knot of desire that coiled in her belly sprang free. Wetness and heat pooled between her legs. Giving no thought to what he was or how he was here, she saw only her Lord M. Confident enough to do so, she reached and undid his jacket, wrestling it off over his shoulders and discarding it, her hands finding the firm sinew beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. The urgency grew. Finally, he tore himself away from her neck to kick off his boots.

Victoria watched intently, chewing at her lip, reclining and writhing a little on the bed, her legs parting with wanton intent.

“Let me see you,” he rasped.

She drew her knees up and spread her legs a little wider.

“All of you,” he growled. “Hide nothing from me.”

The hem of her nightdress bunched in his fist and he tugged at it, lifting it to her waist. Taking his instruction, she dragged it off over her head, discarding it. She lay before him bare. The cold night air made her skin prickle, her nipples stood up, firm and swollen from the cold and the sheer thrill of his eyes, darkened with lust skimming over her, exposed and naked. She no longer had the tiny, slender frame of a young woman. Each child marked out pale white marks across her belly. Insecurity and uncertainty lingered a little. She was so rarely undressed. Even Albert had hardly ever looked at her like this.

“Am I as you imagined me to be?”

“Better. Perfection.”

“My body is not as it was and …”

He silenced her with a kiss, covering her with him. Cupping and stroking her breast, his fingers found a taut nipple. At first gently rolling it between his finger and thumb, the action extracted a soft moan. Spurred on by her response, he pinched a little harder. Her hips bucked and she stifled a cry.

“Ouch,” she pouted.

“Do you not like it? Shall I not do it again?”

“Perhaps we should try again, just to make certain.”

He smirked and twisted and tugged again. This time she moaned deeply. His mouth encased the other stiffened peak, making her gasp as he suckled and grazed it with his teeth. Long, delicate fingers traced a light path up her inner thigh, drawing achingly close to the warmth and dampness of her sex.

“Yes, you must. I need that,” she urged him on.

William’s fingers danced higher, as he still tended to each rosy nipple, working and teasing, soft and then firm, tugging sharply each time she relaxed. Victoria squirmed beneath him, willing him to touch her where she craved it most.

“You torment me, quite knowingly and on purpose,” needy frustration rose within her, unaccustomed to being denied anything, she both adored and resented the power he was exerting over her.

“Patience,” he said, parting his mouth from the taut nub of flesh at her breast, “have you learnt no patience?”

Victoria growled.

A single digit delicately stroked at her slickened entrance, making her gasp.

“There, is that what you need so urgently?”

“Hmmm.”

He repeated the action. Victoria writhed, seeking more. This time he pressed further, dipping his finger into the wetness he found there. Further again, he worked a finger within her, slowly back and forth. She could have wept with joy as a second joined it there, deep and unhurriedly, coiling and twisting where she opened for him. 

“Is that more to your liking? Are those demands satisfied?”

Barely able to speak, she whined back at him, arching her back inviting him further into her. Doubt flashed through her mind. Thoroughly convinced that he was her William, she still held back.

“Is this wrong, ungodly, should we put an end to it?”

“If that is what you desire, say it and I will cease.”

“Is it…unnatural?”

So torn and unsure, she could have sobbed in sheer frustration.

“Does it feel that way?”

“Not at all, not one bit, it feels like the most natural and pure thing in the world. Perhaps it should not seem so.”

“If it worries or pains you, I will stop at once. I could not stand to cause harm. I did not come to you to cause you that.”

She could not tolerate it to be taken from her, not now. Desire overcame reason and fear.

“Don’t you dare.”

His thumb brushed against that place, that delicious spot that made delicious tingling sensations spread out, down her thighs and into her belly.

“Oh,” she said with surprise.

“Oh?” he replied with a hint of wickedness. He pressed there again, forcing another cry from her lips. “There?”

Nodding back at him through heavy-lidded eyes, he rubbed and circled, still working his fingers in and out of her with a steady rhythm. Damp and sticky, his fingers were coated in her, sliding in deep and to the knuckle, then withdrawing almost completely. Victoria breathed deeply, holding onto each breath in anticipation as he almost robbed her of the pleasure, only to drive back in. She adored it, every feeling, every second of it was as she had dreamt of it and longed for and more. William did not neglect her elsewhere, still sucking and nipping at each pert nipple in turn. The pinch sent small shocks to where his fingers teased and aroused her. 

This time he withdrew completely. Instantly she grieved for the loss. His eyebrow shot up as he moved downwards, abandoning her now tender and reddened nipple to mark a trail of kisses over her ribs and the soft swell of her belly. Observing him and huffing heavily through her nose, her hand shot over her mouth to stifle a harsh cry as the flat of his tongue replaced his thumb with a soft flick. It was not an entirely new sensation, but one she had not experienced in what felt like an eternity. Unable to resist, her fingers wound into his dark hair, holding him there, urging him to continue. Ever her humble servant, William obeyed, lapping again at the fleshy bundle of nerves that had grown plump and tender with lust and excitement. He slavishly licked and licked, his fingers once more finding her opening and his mouth and hand worked in tandem.

“If this sets me on the road to hell, then I must burn there, you must not stop. Please, don’t stop, not for a second for anything, you mustn’t, mustn’t, I…” her words began to blur into murmurs and the knot within her began to unravel and unwind.

“William, my William, oh, my love.”

He lapped and circled with adoration and reverence, still pumping in and out of her now with greater urgency and speed. Victoria mewled and tried to hold in the approving sounds that might bring someone to her chamber door and disturb them.

That glorious feeling came, warm and welcome. Still his tongue worked and teased at that sensitive place, raw and almost painful, her grip on his hair tightened, her other hand clawing wildly at the bedsheets.

Victoria was undone. Her thighs shook and she felt as though her heart would burst out of her chest. She came. With a final, guttural sound, it poured out of her. Still panting, she looked down as he lifted his head and smiled at her, wiping his mouth.

“Does that satisfy you?”

He leant down to kiss her. She savoured and revelled in the taste of her still on his lips, a wicked reminder of what he had done for her.

“It does, but I need more. I have want of more. Am I so very wicked?”

“You are, in the best possible way, Victoria.”

“Is that possible? Can I feel you within me?”

“This body says it is so.”

She understood his meaning and relished the idea that her bare flesh and the touch of her moved him and sparked need within him. She smirked at the thought of him stiffening for her.

“Allow me to see you, you will not let me hide myself from you, yet you conceal yourself from me.”

Incapable of denying her anything, he hurriedly removed his shirt. She chewed at her lip, her eyes darting over him in the lamp light.

“Better?

She shook her head.

“No?”

“No. You still hide from me.”

It was William who now smirked as he pulled off his breeches. Victoria gasped as he sprung free, rigid and erect. Victoria reclined on the bed, drinking in the sight of him beautiful but masculine, stripped before her. William moved on top of her, covering her with him, his manhood prodding into her belly. Instinctively she drew up her knees and parted her legs and he nestled between them. Doubt had dissolved so completely. Angling herself and lifting her hips she silently expressed her need until she felt him nudging and pushing at her opening.

“I must have you, I must my love,” he murmured softly.

“Then take me, I am yours.”

He could hold back now longer and drove into her, releasing a groan of pleasure. He was stretching her, filling her. Time and loneliness made it painful for a second, but it subsided quickly, and she adored and embraced the feeling, bucking her hips again, demanding him to bury himself within her. Pressing further, as deep as he could go, she clung on, digging her fingers into his shoulder. Still, he allowed her a moment to adjust to the feeling.

“Move, please, I need it.”

Slowly he pulled back, as he had with his fingers, desperately close to leaving her bereft. She gripped him harder, challenging him to attempt to take it away, until he plunged into her once more. Again, and again, he tormented her, extracting soft cries and whimpers. It was everything. Victoria felt complete. She never wanted it to end.

In. She breathed deeply. Out. She exhaled again. He moved again, gripped and held within her, her fleshy walls constricting so perfectly around him, an ideal fit, as if her body had been designed for his. 

“Oh, my love, love, my perfect love,” he muttered into her ear, drawing the soft lobe between his teeth. “It is right, so very right. It cannot be otherwise.”

He thrust into her again, back and forth now, upping the pace, her body finding and matching the rhythm and moving with him. He drew himself up onto his knees, raising her leg up and resting it on his shoulder, allowing him to press further into her. Always his eyes were locked on hers, watching the joy he was teasing out of her.

“Oh, oh, there, there,” she said as he found that soft, sensitive place within her and brushed and hit against it with every thrust into her. Gripping her by the hips he pulled her onto him, holding her still, making her squirm and push against him in a delicious form of torment. Writhing she tried to move and could not. He held her there until his own need took over and he moved again, strong deep thrusts into her, faster and faster. Sensing he could not hold on much longer, he brushed his thumb over that sensitive nub again, working it out of her, pressing and stroking while he still rocked back and forth.

Victoria fought the need to cry out sharply, biting down on her wrist hard enough to leave teeth marks. Pleasure spiked again, her eyes rolled back, and she hurtled over the edge, pulsing and throbbing around him.

“Victoria,” he grunted out as he found his own release.

He remained there, until he softened and slipped away from her, collapsing face down on the bed beside her. At first, they said nothing. Her ragged breath slowed and steadied, and he turned onto his side to face her, their fingers knotting together.

She smiled broadly. “Good?”

He laughed softly, “good.”

William made love to her twice more before exhaustion claimed her. Beginning to drift, he gently tucked her under the covers and curled into her. He did not sleep. He had no need of it, but instead observed her so completely relaxed and at peace. William glanced at the timer knowing dawn was not far away. Victoria slept in a dreamless and blissful sleep.

The first rays of pale, winter sunlight crept in through the window as William slid out from under the covers. He was already dressed by the time she had stirred fully, and her eyes opened, wide and surprised.

“Then it was not a dream?”

“No, it was not a dream.”

“But it is not and never can be my reality from now on.”

He bowed his head, averting his gaze.

“It cannot,” he said solemnly.

Resolute, she refused to plead, or weep, or beg. Not to him, and not to a higher power. Victoria understood that she had stolen something she was not meant to have. To try and claim more was pure greed. Nor did she wish him to see her sob. She felt she would, but only when she was once more alone. She would not squander the remaining moments on sadness.

“And you must leave me now?”

“I must. I told you my time on Earth as I am could only ever be brief. The hourglass is almost empty.”

She swallowed. There was barely anything left in the upper chamber. They watched for a second, the purple sand pouring downwards and piling up. Victoria sighed.

“Then we must say goodbye.” She smiled weakly, offering unconvincing reassurance that she was at peace with what must transpire.

“We must. I wish it were not so.”

“I would rather have had this, than nothing at all. You will still be my rook, watching, silently guiding me?”

“Always, Ma’am.”

Victoria snorted and chuckled.

“Still? Still, Ma’am after all that we have been through? You come back to me, by other-worldly means and give your precious time on Earth to lay beside me and you still call me Ma’am. Always dutiful and proper, my dear Lord M.”

“Always. I am delighted to see you amused.”

William glanced toward the hourglass; the rising dawn sun cast a pale spotlight on it.

“The time, we are wasting it. I must say goodbye,” Victoria knew it must be now and leapt from her bed, caring nothing about her nudity. Shame was lost and forgotten. She ran to him, throwing herself into her arms, burying he face in his chest, weakening and concealing the tears that formed and threatened to fall with such force she might drown in them. Sniffing hard, she battled to keep them contained.

“Not one second of it was wasted, not here with you.” He stroked and smoothed her hair; she shook with cold and coughed out muted sobs. William held her so tightly she might shatter from the force.

“Is there nothing that can be done to keep you here with me?”

“I fear there is nothing.”

“Then,” she dabbed at her eyes before raising her head, “kiss me farewell.”

“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered.

Their lips met, soft and tender yet passionate and sincere. They remained there until the final grain dropped down and hit against the miniature mountain of sand, reunited with the rest of its kind. The mist rose up from the ground. The solid form became thin until he slipped through her fingers. She tried in vain to cling on to his jacket, but it turned to smoke. The greenish-grey cloud swirled and grew until it pulled back within itself and disappeared, leaving no evidence it was ever there. Her eyes shot to the floor.

The rook looked up at her with glassy eyes and called gently.

Victoria smiled through tears. She bent to stroke its oily, black feathers. The rook leant into her hand and absorbed her affection.

“My darling William.”

The bird hopped back and sprang up onto the windowsill.

“Can’t I keep you here, where you are, safe and warm and well?”

Tap, tap, tap at the glass.

“No, you do not wish to live your life in a cage. We have done enough of that already. I know,” she huffed. “I must let you go free.”

Tap, tap, tap.

Suddenly conscious she was undressed at the window; she hid behind the curtain. The bird looked at her in what she would have sworn was amusement.

“Stop it!” she grinned with warmth and wickedness.

Reaching across awkwardly, she slid up the sash just enough for the bird to slip outside. The rain had stopped, but the morning air was cold and fresh. The rook paused and looked at her once more, tipping its head to the side.

“Goodbye,” she rasped, a glumness descending over her face.

He remained there a second longer, then opened his wings and flew off towards the soft orange glow on the horizon.

Sighing, she slid the window shut. The hourglass was gone. Footsteps in the hall grew closer. Victoria scampered back into bed, scooping up her discarded nightdress and diving beneath the covers like a giddy schoolgirl.

She did not weep as she might have done. Instead she smiled to herself. The footsteps drew closer and she heard someone outside the door. Victoria would not mourn a loss; she had already done so. Though she would still wear black each day, she was reminded that the sources of her greatest sadness had also given her greatest joy and she had never felt so hopeful, or so very much alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. Not too sad I hope.  
Thoughts welcome and thanks for reading, Vin x


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